It's Not Gibberish! It's Gobbledegook!
by AnEternalNight
Summary: Tom Riddle doesn't know what's real and what's a dream anymore. Is it the world where the newest orderly and him flirt in between his therapy sessions and monitored free periods? Or where they shout at each other in a sort of mangled Latin and his cell mates all call him a strange title. What was it again? Moldy shorts? HarryxTom and HermionexBellatrix


This story is meant to play to the stereotypes of prison so I apologize if I offend anyone because it is not my intention. I don't own Harry Potter and I don't think you think I do.

Summary: Tom Riddle doesn't know what's real and what's a dream anymore. Is it the world where the newest orderly and him flirt in between his therapy sessions and monitored free periods? Or where they shout at each other in a sort of mangled Latin and his cell mates all call him a strange title. What was it again? Moldy shorts? HarryxTom and HermionexBellatrix

* * *

**Febuary 12, 2007**

"Expelliarmus," he sees a flash of green light before he wakes up. Heart pounding and sweat covering his body. Causing the well-air conditioned room to feel even colder than it was. Tom Riddle glanced around. He was still in his room. But what a peculiar dream. It felt so real. He was abruptly brought out of his musings by the warm chuckle of what sounded like a young man. "Don't worry Ms. Lestrange, I brought you eggs and toast instead of the oatmeal you call slop this time," an unfamiliar voice said lightly. The obnoxious and scratchy voice of his neighbor snarkily responded, "that's because it is!" Then the sound of wheels on cement echoed throughout the empty hallway before neatly stacked meals on a metal cart was wheeled into view, pushed by a young man dressed in the light blue uniform, identifying him as an orderly. Their eyes met before the other man smiled. "Hello!" He cheerfully greeted. "You must be Mr. Riddle, I'm Harry, the new orderly."

His emerald green eyes almost seemed to twinkle as they looked into Toms'. For a second, Tom was trapped staring at those eyes. They weren't the usual green eyes that some people had. Usually, the green almost seemed to be intruding on a light brown that surrounded the pupil. No, Tom realized with surprise, Harry's eyes were actually green throughout. Although there might be slightly lighter flecks in there. He would need to be closer to tell... "well aren't you going to take it?" Tom was quickly pulled from his... analysis of the new orderly's eyes. Then the meaning of the question hit him and he held out his hand through the bars, reaching for the boxed meal that Harry was holding out towards him. The sides of the container narrowly missed the bars of the door as Tom effortlessly pulled it through. With a natural grace, he placed it in one clean motion on the table behind him.

The familiar soft thundering of the cart started again. But Tom's long thin fingers wrapped around Harry's wrist with lightning reflexes. He was warm and his muscles were tensed in surprise. Tom looked up to see Harry's lips forming a soundless "what". The black haired orderly was clearly shocked by the speed in which Tom's arm had shot out of the cell and grabbed him. One second later and Tom immediately let go of Harry's arm. He was confused because he never initiated contact yet he had just touched someone when he could've easily spoken instead. Shrugging off his confusion and in an attempt to save face, he smiled charmingly. "You forgot to give me a fork," he said silkily, trying to distract Harry (and himself) from what had just happened. The orderly blushed before smiling and replying, "my bad, I'm used to giving out the oatmeal." Harry quickly pulled out a packaged plastic set of utensils from his pocket, holding it out to Riddle.

Tom nodded, taking it, his mind still reviewing what had just happened. He turned to sit down in the plastic chair. Easily opening the plastic packaging and laying the silverware on top of the napkin. The cell was set up so that the table was underneath the small barred window. Leaving Tom with his back to the cell door. He could hear the cart roll away but he resisted the urge to turn around. Instead choosing to take a bite of his egg and toast. Immediately he recoiled, the egg was the temperature of the cell, very cold.

* * *

**Febuary 11, 2007**

Harry never thought he'd end up working at the Dumbledore Correctional Facility. He went to Hogwarts Academy, it was the best bloody school in all of Europe. It only accepted the best and throughout his academic journey, he was constantly made aware that he only got in because his parents were alumni.

Ironically, a third of his graduating class ended up working here too. Even Hermione Granger. The smartest girl in his grade who everyone thought would revolutionize the field of dentistry like her parents. Then again, she's the head doctor here and you're just an orderly, Harry reminded himself.

"Oi! Potter!" The cocky voice of Draco Malfoy, his soccer rival back at Hogwarts Academy, brought Harry out of his self-loathing thoughts. "The inmates will be here in less than a minute and I can't serve all this slop on my own!" Slop was actually oatmeal in the mornings, beans with rice during lunch, and stew during dinner. Everyone simply referred to those foods as slop because they looked slop-ish and tasted slop-ish as well. Harry didn't know what that meant but he didn't want to taste it to find out.

Not a second after he got behind the serving station did the piercing bell ring and the loud footsteps and chatter of inmates signified the beginning of lunch. After the first ten inmates, Harry and Draco got into a rhythm and it only took another 10 minutes to get the rest of the inmates their much desired slop. As soon as they had finished. Malfoy smirked, "I'd say well done Potter, but I'm fairly certain I did all the work." He sneered, before walking over to one of the security guards that were dispersed throughout the room to insure the inmates would behave.

Harry sighed, exhaustedly leaning against the counter. A familiar factual voice said from behind him, "so you work here now?" He turned around to see Hermione smiling at him. "Yeah, turns out that I don't want to be a cop..." like my parents was left unsaid. "Well, it's nice to see another familiar face around here that isn't Malfoy." Harry let out a soft chuckle.

"Were you on breakfast duty too?" Hermione questioned.

"Yeah I got cell blocks C and D." He replied.

"Really?" She said, surprised, "you're the new guy and those are the more dangerous... ones."

Harry almost laughed at the way she avoided saying that they were prisoners. But he nodded somberly, "well, Mr. Weasley had the choice between me and Neville."

Hermione stiffened for one second at Percy's last name but shrugged it off just as fast. It would've been unnoticeable if they hadn't been friends since they were eleven. Friends with-

"So you met _her_." She unknowingly interrupted, looking away from Harry almost nervously.

"Yeah." His response short and cautious.

Hermione had adopted a strange look on her face. "How was she?" She asked quietly. As if not wanting to hear her own question.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her but she still wasn't looking at him. "She actually seemed nice. Made a big fuss about the oatmeal though."

A smile almost ghosted it's way onto her face but it transformed into a strained look so quickly, Harry wondered if he imagined it. "That's nice." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

He frowned. "You could always talk to her, you never did give her a chance to explain..." he suggest carefully.

Hermione shook her head almost frantically. "No, I-I won't go through that again."

Harry started daringly, "I never saw you happier than when you and Bel-"

But he was interrupted. The loud sound of something crunching cut through the air. Before the sound of something slamming into metal resounded throughout the now silent cafeteria.

Speak of the devil, Bellatrix was on the table being pinned by Tonks, a security guard who was known for sporadically dying her hair. Another inmate at the same table had a bloody nose that looked bent. Although it was hard to tell because he was clutching it and it was bleeding quite profusely.

Hermione immediately sprung into action. Escorting the injured inmate out of the cafeteria and most likely to the hospital wing.

Tonks followed close behind while holding Bellatrix's arms behind her back. Acting out when you were in maximum security could land you time in solitary confinement. Especially if it was not your first offense and knowing Bellatrix, even though Harry had only met her yesterday, it most definitely was not.

The bell rung again, signaling the end of lunch. Inmates started disposing of any remaining food and putting away trays. Security guards watching closely to see if anyone was hiding contraband. Even keeping a plastic spoon could end with you losing a session of yard time or your wage for the week.

Harry was about to head towards the staff room when Percy cut him off. "Potter, I need you to make the room in cell 12C." Harry nodded, it was the cell right next to Bellatrix's. He supposed that the fact it wasn't Bellatrix's cell was good news. She wouldn't be getting moved to solitary.

* * *

**Febuary 15, 2007**

Tom had been here 3 days. 72 hours of his life wasted. The irritation must have shown on his face because he was brought back to the frivolous group session when the psychologist asked, "what about you Tom?"

They had already been doing this for an hour. "My apologies Doctor-" he glanced at the man's name tag, it read: _Pye, Augustus_. "-Pye," he continued smoothly, "but what was the question?"

A vein on the Pye's forehead throbbed and he turned red as if he were angry. Smiling in a way that was obviously forced, his beady eyes looked into Toms'. "The question was, how has this week been for you so far?"

The doctor spoke slowly, as if Tom were unintelligent and if Tom had no self-control, he would've killed the fool right there. Instead, his eyebrow merely twitched in distaste. He had just been reminded of what he had previously been thinking before he was interrupted. How he had been wasting his time dreaming and having meaningless conversations in this prison. He glanced up at the other prisoners in the room, none of them had noticed his short quarrel with the psychologist, they were likely as tired of the discussion as he was.

"I had the strangest dream..." Tom began, pausing dramatically, no one reacted except for the doctor who gave a poorly smothered groan as Tom started describing a twisted version of the same dream he had been having for the majority of his life. Minus one green-eyed, incorrigible idiot, that one didn't deserve to be remembered, such was Tom's vexation with him. It entertained Tom to no end to hear doctors attempt to draw conclusions about him from his prevarications.

* * *

_Author's Note: Should I continue?_


End file.
